Faces I almost forgot

We laughed in one yard again,
my blood, my echoes, my cousins. ?
Names danced on my tongue
but wouldn’t land —
too many years, too much distance.

We hugged like strangers learning home,
took pictures too fast,
ate too quick,
talked over each other
like we were trying to fit
ten years into one afternoon.

And now it’s quiet.
My chest feels full and empty at the same time.
I miss them already.
Miss the jokes I didn’t get to finish,
the stories we didn’t start,
the time we didn’t have.

What if “next time” is never?
That thought sits heavy,
like homesick for people who are still alive.
Homesick for a version of us
we barely got to touch.

So I’m holding this ache like a promise:
next time I won’t forget your face.
Next time we’ll stay longer.
Next time I’ll say it —
I missed you.

Until then,
I’ll keep your smile in my phone
and your name on my heart. ?